


Misadventures of Elsen #78158

by TedizStalker



Category: Bx: Execute (OFF Fangame), C/S/R (OFF Fangame)
Genre: A spot of gay but nothing more than fluff, Also foreshadowing, Barns? Barns, Either Ghost draws a blank, Getting into character as an Elsen is still dangerous, It's not Ghost if he's not swearing, M/M, No Zacharie? No problem!, Or he gets a kick out of the mental crash, Or not, Sucre's the merchant now!, Thanks to Huaso not many Purifiers have made it so far, Weird One-shot, semi canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 07:34:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25467094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TedizStalker/pseuds/TedizStalker
Summary: There is no harm in practicing to shapeshift when you're a dead spirit of any description, purifier or otherwise.Unless you're Ghost 'Fuckin' Stop' Batter who has forgotten how to change back!
Relationships: Elsen/Elsen, Ghost Batter/Huaso
Kudos: 10





	Misadventures of Elsen #78158

Nothing seemed amiss when Elsen #78158 got off the train at the Damien station.

Or rather, Ghost Batter was trying out his shapeshifting skills, something he decides that today is a good day to put into practice, while it was on his mind. The only problem is that he now forgot how to change back.

The second problem was that he forgot he could walk now. Stepping off the train wasn’t easy, especially when he tripped over his feet. Thankfully, he caught himself before he completely toppled over and face planted in the warm metal surface of the station.  
Having legs again is great! Forgetting that he couldn’t even float inches off the ground, not so much.

#78158 made his way over to the mines, being stopped briefly by the inhabitant guarding the entrance, only to be told to put a hard hat on. No big deal, he could work with this. Had he remained as who he usually is, they wouldn’t dare stop him.  
When he arrives at the dead end only to find nobody working down this tunnel, he turns back. He begin asking around, vaguely recalling the number of the one he’s looking for; #48276.

Most miners ignore the question or brush him off, allowing #78158 to understand exactly how much of an asshole these otherwise timid workers are. They wouldn’t say it to Dedan’s face, and they certainly wouldn’t say it to Huaso either. Yet the latter would easily pick up on their disdain without hearing so much of a wheeze.

Finally, one sturdy worker paused as #78158 asks again, “Can you tell me where Elsen #48276 is?”

“Sure, I saw him heading towards the exit leading to Pentel. A farmer wanted his help regarding some Spectre infestation with the barns that the guardian refuses to address.”

“Barns?” the unfamiliar face asks, feeling his mind draw a blank at this.

Already, he misses having Huaso around, sharing that neuron.

~~

Huaso takes a moment to catch his breath after his recent target was corrupted.

Bloody Spectres.

Bloody Dedan.

Why didn’t the latter deal with this? It’s not like there was a Purifier passing through doing favors to rid the world of impurity. Either it’s purified, or he’ll corrupt it so that it’s forced to loop and fix itself instead.

He briefly wonders if Harbringers are related to Purifiers in any way, shape, or form.

A rustle from some hay nearby, and Huaso perks up, following the echo that flickered at his left ear. “Alright, show yerself.” he grumbles, hands on his hips.  
He did not count on an inhabitant stepping out of hiding. His hairstyle looks familiar, though he could potentially be mistaken. “Don’ think I’ve seen ya in these parts. New guy from Bismark?”

At this point, #78158 figured out that Huaso didn't recognize him immediately, and decided to play along, putting on ‘the new guy’ disposition; timid, a little unsure, eager to get to work. “How did you know?”

“Well, I figured as much, seeing as there’s nothin’ left of Vesper.” the miner replies, walking past the other, “What’s yer job?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t met the Guardian yet.”

“Then we might need t’ make our way to Shachihata. Gotta fill out a consensus to let ‘em know yer lookin’ to stay and work ‘ere.”

Oh, Huaso really doesn’t recognize him, can’t put two and two together? Must be those zombie brains again. “How about we fuckin’ don’t?”

“...Excuse me?”

Huaso raised a brow as he turned around, looking at the inhabitant. That disposition made a quick turn, it almost reminds him of…

“Ghost?”

“About fuckin’ time. I need help; I forgot how to change back.”

Huaso steps closer to the other, clicking his tongue seeing that the barn isn’t really well lit.

“Ya sound like ‘im, and ya hair is of a similar style.” he starts, reaching to grab the other’s hands. “Feel soft, too. How did ya do it this time? An’ of all things to shapeshift into, why an Elsen?”

#78158 tried not to wheeze as he felt his hands being grabbed by the other’s claws. “I thought it would be good practice at the time. And to help blend in with the others if I decide to check out a different file or two without drawing attention to myself. But of fuckin’ course, I get stuck.” he shrugs.

“An’ how did that work out for ya? The whole blendin’ in with the nerds?”

“Fuckin’ well, surprisingly.” Was that a growl from the stuck Purifier? “Too well, actually. Most of these ‘nerds’ wouldn’t tell me where you were at when I asked around.”

“Ghost, I know yer a ‘talk shit, git hit’ kinda guy, but I’ve grown used to it.”

“Well, you shouldn’t-”

“An’ I expect ya t’ not lash out in my steed.” Huaso quickly cuts in before #78158 went on a mini rant, “I have a reason t’ self ostracize; bein’ contagious only to th’ livin’ is primary. Let ‘em think what they will. I keep to my business, they keep to theirs.”

“Alright…” he mumbles, looking at his hands held by the burnt claws. Perhaps being stuck as an Elsen right now does have the cons of making him a little wary of his timid disposition. The sooner he remembers _how_ to turn back, the better.

“Right, that’s the Spectres cleared out of the barns-”

“Barns?”

#78158 blinks at that.

“Barns?” Huaso asks again.

“Barns…”

“Huh… barns. Is that, like… uh, some kind of a mental breaker for you?”

“Barns?”

“Ghost, stop that.”

“Stop what?” #78158 grins.

“Stop saying ‘barns’ when I say-”

“Barns.”

Huaso facepalms.

“Ya keep repeatin’ _that word_ after me, it’s gonna lose meanin’.”

“Which word, me-fucker?”

“The one word where ya seem to git a kick out of repeatin’. What’s the story behind that anyway?”

A noise from the barn door got the two to look in its direction. The sounds of Dedan yelling at another inhabitant just outside gave it away. #78158 grabs Huaso’s hand.

“Down that trapdoor first. I’ll be distracted by the urge to work if I follow you back to the mines.”

~~

“So how come the word ‘barns’ distract ya so easily?”

“Barns?”

“Ghost, don’ start.”

#78158 shook his head to clear it up. “When Asshole Pokerface made his home run circuit through the files with the Puppeteer, he picked up on many things that others consider, what 4th wall breakers would call, a ‘meme’. One of them is right from Zone 1, leaving the mines to Pentel, when an inhabitant requests for his help. A group of Spectres were in the… barns.” he blinks, shaking his head again.  
“Hilariously enough, Pokerface didn’t know what ‘barns’ were. So the inhabitant goes on to explain that he’s in Pentel, metal this, cows that, need metal to walk the ground on… but out of all of that, the word ‘Barns’ stuck. It’s either a mind breaker or a force of habit. But if my brothers, or myself even hear that word, we tend to repeat it as though we have parrot brains.”

“Or a box o’ rocks.” Huaso snickered.

“Yeah, sure. _Your brains_ being a box full of rocks.”

“I’m not the one who has a mental lapse over a word.”

Echos erupted in Huaso’s vision, making him glance towards the trapdoor. Sounds like Dedan is on his way here. “Ghost, I think we should hide.” his voice suddenly went hush.

“But where? I can’t see shit without the light on.”

Huaso looks around, clicking his tongue. Finding something to hide in, he grabs #78158’s hand and guide him to an empty crate, the two climbing in quietly and pulling the lid over it.

Shortly after that, the trapdoor lid opens, the Guardian climbing down and turning on the light switch. “You said there were Spectres in this Barn!”

Before #78158 could say anything, Huaso presses a hand over his mouth, shaking his head no. Now’s not the time for his mind to break over something menial and run his dumb mouth.

“Well, yes, but I got one of the workers to help eliminate them.” a timid sounding Elsen responds from the top of the trapdoor ladder.

“Eliminate? THEY LOOK LIKE THEY’VE BEEN FUCKING PURIFIED! I DON’T KNOW WHAT STUPID GAME YOU’RE PLAYING, BUT THIS IS AN EXAMPLE OF WASTING MY TIME, IDIOT!” the iron Guardian stomped around, looking through hay bails, behind lumps of metal, even over a fence. At one point, he approaches the crate that the two were hiding in. “YOU HAVE BETTER NOT SENT THAT WORKER TO HIS DEATH! SOMETHING SMELLS LIKE IT HAS DIED IN HERE. WHEN I’M GONE, YOU CLEAN IT OUT!”

Dedan didn’t bother looking _into_ the crate, only grabbing it to look behind it to find nothing before shoving it back. “Y-Yes sir.” came the timid reply.

Huaso kept his breath held, watching through a crack as the Guardian made his way up the stairs, turning the light off along the way. He flinched when the trapdoor slammed shut. To which afterwards, he lets out a sigh of relief, removing his hand from the disguised Purifier’s mouth.

“…Barns?”

“Ghost, we need t’ find a way to change ya back.”

“Just jog my memory Huaso, how hard can it be?”

“Besides yellin’ ‘You can shapeshift’?”

“It’s worked every other time I misplaced my neurons.”

“I can’t jus’ keep yellin’ at ya. An’ what happens if I’m not able ta help ya out of yer next fuck up?”

“...Good point.” #78158 tried to move to get up out of the crate, but stopped. “I can’t fuckin’ see in the dark.”

Huaso reaches up and turns the headlamp on the other’s mining hat. “There, better?”

“A little.”

Another thing #78158 had; his own hardhat with a headlamp, but it’s not as bright as Huaso’s own. “I forgot I had this.”

“Break my jaw for this, as I’m goin’ against what I usually say ‘bout the nerds... but ya lookin’ cute.”

“First of all; why the fuck would I break your jaw? Secondly; I know I’m cute, but in my own cool way. Don’t you fuckin’ forget that.”

“Ghost, if you were able to coil ‘round me right now, I would kiss ya.”

“Are you saying you wouldn’ smooch a ghost in disguise?” he asks with a grin.

“Maybe. But can ya coil around me in a hug?”

“As is? Uh… I could fuckin’ try.” #78158 scoots, soon wrapping his arms around the harbringer while straddling his hips with his legs. It’s… not the same, at least. And like this, it could easily be seen as compromising. At least they were still hiding in the crate.

“Close enough.” Huaso grins, returning the hug and leaning close to peck his currently stuck boyfriend.

It didn’t take long before both silently agreed that this wasn’t the time or the place, so a quick kiss, a disentanglement, and climbing out of the crate later, the two left the cowshed to explore Pentel for a bit. It also took another word of reminding from Huaso for #78158 to turn off his headlamp.

~~

“Good morning. Would you like to buy some wares? :-)”

Wait, isn’t that Sucré? #78158 looks at the new merchant with miffed interest. “Crazy pothead?”

“Pot and Kettle, Ghosty Sock. :-)”

“Ghost, she might not be the same person ya met at an earlier date. Different individuals, provided that there’s an iteration of the same individual between two different files, have different personalities an’ histories.” Huaso mutters to #78158.

This version of Sucré had thrown on a long sleeve shirt under her open vest, likely to become decent now that she was clearly taking the previous merchant’s place. But there were still two X marked prints on the chest area. “Would you like to see what I have to offer, mushroom cowboy? :-)”

“Not today, ma’am. Thank ya.” Huaso grunts. Huh… what did she mean by that? Mushroom cowboy? “What got ya t’ come outta hidin’? I thought the world would be too scary for ya.”

“It is. :-O It is a scary world! But I have not heard from Zacharie. In a long time. It’s been about six months. He said he was heading to Zone 3 after an epidemic broke out. :-(”

“Yeah… ‘bout that…” Huaso starts, when Sucré holds up a hand.

“Say no more, cowboy. It’s a frightening world out there. And it hasn’t made any sense to me. But nobody else has stepped up to become that valuable merchant. I needed more room to dance anyway. So I thought… why not? :-/”

“Huaso, do you know what she’s on about?”

“I do. It’s not easy t’ explain right now, Ghost.”

“Anyway, is there anything in stock that might take you two boys fancy? ;-D”

Huaso glances at the stuck Purifier. “Sure. Think we got time t’ window lick for a while.”

“Then here’s what I have at the moment. :-)”

~~

“Say, how d’ya know about Sucré?” Huaso asks once they board the elevator.

“I ran into her, or an iteration of her as you would put it, in Heaven with my brothers.” #78158 recalls, “She was having a bad day, and Duckerface kept making it worse so I shove my brothers back in line and did my best to cheer her up. Remarkably, it worked.” he shrugs, a blush creeping onto his face.

“What did Batter do?”

“He told me to calm down once I flew into a rant against Bad. Fuckin’ insensitive incompetent fucks, I swear…”

“What happened that made it a bad day for her?”

“Something about her file’s Zacharie being a dickscammer and cheating on her with the Queen.”

#78158 was blushing as he thought back on the few fond memories he had with Sucré, or Sugar, as the iteration in Heaven went by.

“Ghost, you alright there?”

“I am, let me think.” he shakes his head, looking the buttons over. Of all the combinations he could think up of, one floated in his mind. He reaches up and starts plugging in the floor number.  
1-0-2-5-8

Huaso nearly lost his balance as the elevator door closed, feeling it heading upwards. “What’s on that floor?”

“Don’t remember. All I know is that Pokerface plugged it in once during his run.”

“Hopefully the elevator dun stop for anyone else lookin’ to go up.”

After two minutes of standing in the lift, the doors open again. Both step off, looking around at the room full of boxes. Next to the elevator was a sign; Postal Service.

“So this is the right floor.” Huaso muses out loud, a finger under his chin as he looks at it.

Meanwhile, #78158 starts to meander to the other end of the room, navigating his way around the packed boxes. By the time he took a left, Huaso had caught up to him. “It doesn’t look very different to the standard files of this floor.”

“Ghost, I think this is the floor Dedan’s office is on.”

“Is it now? Good. I got a few choice words for that cuck guttin’ minute handler.”

#78158 smacks one fist into an open palm as he says this. He flinches as he feels a burnt hand on his shoulder.

“I’d rather ya didn’t. Not until ya remember ta turn back.”

“H-Hello?”

A timid voice made them look over at a wary Elsen.

“What is it?” the stuck Purifier asked, a little irked that Huaso has a point. He can’t take on a Guardian like this.

“...I’m… I’m very afraid. Help me…”

“Oh no…” Huaso growls, seeing the smoke plume from the sulfuric glands burning away at the worker’s eyes and ears. He steps forward towards the Elsen. “He’s ‘bout ta burn up!”

~~

Huaso feels disgusted with himself as the body drops to the floor. Scratched at, punched in, head permanently stuck in a sulfur reacted sugar plume.

“Maybe… Maybe his suit has taken control of his… of his brain…” the Burnt’s voice rattled out before it moved no more.

But the smell of sulfur burning sugar didn’t stop. Huaso turns around, looking at #78158, who was hugging himself, small streams of smoke emitting in the same spots. He places his hands on the other’s shoulders.

“Git a hold of yaself, Ghost. Y’ain’t one a them.”

He blinks, shaking his head as that remark brings his focus back to reality.

“S-Shhhit…” He wheezed, taking a deep breath before finally calming down. “I’m s-sure that was one of the w-workers that Batter had to remove by force.”

“You bein’ in character of a nerd is kinda scary, Ghost. Maybe we oughta look for a mirror.”

“Fuck no. You know I’ll punch one in and add another seven years to my streak of bad luck.”

“Superstitious, are you?”

“M-Maybe. A-Anyway, how come _that_ one was still alive?”

“Remember when I said purifiers come lookin’ for me when they attempt ta pass through this zone? I’m a harbringer; I’m a thoroughly corrupt being, an’ that fact alone has ‘em knockin’ on my doorstep. They often mistake me for mah boss ‘cause of it. Whether I couldn’ give two flyin’ fucks ‘bout it or not, I always tend t’ go all out if words alone ain’t enough to defuse the hostility, an’ if a fight can’t be avoided. It’s fight or flight. And if they ain’t gonna choose flyin’, I’ll half-ass make sure they’ll be dyin’.  
“So, if I have to put two-an’-two together; not _one_ purifier has ever made it this far because of me.”

It took a while to let it all sink in for #78158, blinking before tilting his head. “How many purifiers have you stopped?”

“Lost count. I’d say one every couple o’ months, an’ that was before ya came along.”

“...And I’m the first one you haven’t fought with?”

“Well, you didn’ fly blindly into battle against me without lettin’ me try an’ talk ya outta it. Yer also the first purifier that ain’t bein’ pulled by the strings.”

#78158 frowns. Maybe it was a good thing he didn’t let his anger get to his head when they first met. Sure, he’s formidable enough to take down three Gods and then some, and a harbringer would be a piece of cake to him. No doubt he would slug the other around a good deal and send him running to nurse his pride. But Huaso has _killed_ purifiers before. Albeit much against his will, but _entry level_ purifiers died seeking out the _wrong_ kind of impurity to try and remove by force.

He swallows hard, timidly taking one of Huaso’s hands to hold. “I’m glad I wasn’t one of the fuckers who picked a fight they couldn’t win.”

“Ghost, ya would’ve won, hands down. But ya’d also have the liberty ta take the coward’s option or back away. I don’t. I’d be fightin’ for my life, on behalf of the virus when a fight starts.”

~~

“Hey, Huaso, come check this out! This Second Version talks about the Velholdende.”

He waves at the harbringer to come over here, grinning. “ _They are eight, and they have long beards. They watch what is happening from their high silver spheres._ ”

“Who’d a thought?”

“Here’s another weird Version. _A sole big insect, whose mandibles spit meat._ Immanuel comes to mind.”

“Ghost, ya think these pieces of paper could be predictin’ future events?”

“Fuck if I know.”

“Additional info aside, I think it’s a cryptic way for us t’ figure out a number combination leadin’ to some place.”

~~

“This is weird… Fourth Version: _They are four, each one attribute to an element. They protect their respective crystals_.”

A shudder ran up #78158’s spine. “Why does that fuckin’ scream ‘déjà vu’?”

Huaso only offered him a worried frown resting on his goggles. “Are we done lookin’ around? Dedan could be back any moment now, an’ I should’ve been back at work about an hour ago.”

“Why not open a portal back to the mines, then?”

“Ya know… y’ain’t the only one that needs remindin’ that they can do a thing.” the miner smiles, getting his pickaxe out and tapping the wall to make cracks appear. Once both have stepped in, the cracks close behind them, and Huaso’s head lamp is switched on.

~~

The familiar scent of smoke was what met them at the other end of the pocket tunnel. But the Purifier was growing agitated.

“I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Same place where I took a shower. There’s a couple a sinks with mirrors. Don’ go breakin’ any.”

“Can’t promise you that, hardhat. Come with me.”

With a sigh, Huaso follows the other out of the mines.

A shift rotation was taking place, so there is no surprise that a shower stall or three were in use, steam flooding the place. #78158 wipes down the mirror, looking at his reflection with a frown. “Okay, so looking like an inhabitant is a little more bearable, but I still fuckin’ hate it. I hate this look.”

“Least ya look cool, in yer own cute way.” the miner chimes in with a grin, “Still, nothin’ comin’ to mind?”

“Not really?”

He runs a hand through his hair. It kept to its style when he shapeshifted.

“Ghost, ya can shapeshift.”

“I know, I forgot _how_ I was able to pull it off.” he grumbles, looking at his reflection again. “Or who I look like at this point…”

“Well, I dunno how else t’ help ya. It was a nice tour ‘round Zone 1, I’ll admit.”

“We have yet to check out Alma.”

“Ghost, I ain’t goin’ there. It’s literally a pool full of meat.”

“But don’t you eat meat for a living?” he smiles as he asks.

“If fire kills me like a stack o’ dry sticks, what do ya think meat-base attacks will do?”

“At least the food will be right there to snap you out of Empty Mode-”

“Barns.”

“Barns?”

“Barns.” Huaso repeats. He just needed the other to stop on his idea of going to Alma.

“Barns...”

#78158 hums, closing his eyes, thinking. Yes, he could almost recall from his youngest brother’s memory on what happened.  
An Elsen asks for help, he goes in, he purifies five spectres, and before leaving he hears the same inhabitant begging Dedan to help. As he passes one of the barns-er, cowsheds, he catches his reflection in a peculiar shiny lump of metal; A man, with a black hat, and clad in a white baseball uniform.

The shapeshifting that takes place was lucid. And that was probably the easy part; the hard part is that he forgot that he now not only has no leg to stand on, but also forgot how to float, causing him to crash into the sink.

“Geeze, Ghost!” Huaso barks, catching the other and pulling him upright. “Yer alright?”

“Fuckin’ Ow? I guess…?”

Ghost fixes his hat, finds his balance, and floats a few inches off the ground. He looks in the mirror, soon smiling. “I still hate this look, but I would prefer ‘Cute in my own Cool way’ any day.”

“Better though?”

“Well… almost.” he looks down, his frown returning. “I’m gonna miss walking on my two feet.”

“At least ya can fly now.”

“At least there’s that. C’mon… holding that form all day has made me hungry. And I don’t think this is the place to be cooking a steak, no pepper.”

“Too right.”

As Huaso follows Ghost back out of the public bathroom stalls, he glances back at the sink. Good thing the mirror was made out of super polished metal, and not glass.


End file.
